


Finale

by CastielFollowMe



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, character death (on the show), character developtment, emotion exhaustion, misha crying, strong emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielFollowMe/pseuds/CastielFollowMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha didn't have the highest of hopes of feelings about this season finale, at least in regards to the treatment and future of his character. And it was only a matter of time before, strained emotion, high levels of pain and hurt finally led to Misha's first breakdown. Can Jensen or Jared provide the comfort Misha or Castiel needs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be a piece in Misha's perspective about how Season's 10 finale will go down. Misha seems like he has grown attached and fond of Castiel and would be extremely upset with the treatment of his character, however I feel Misha is not the type to often express his thoughts and emotions until it bottles up and becomes too much. There is meant to be no romantic intentions between the actors, as this fic focuses on the close bond and loyal friendship between Misha, Jensen and Jared as they care for one another.  
> I may or may not add a second part to this fic that covers the after math, depending on if anyone is interested in that. So if you want more than a one shot, send a comment and let me know.

Whoever said, it would be like this in drama school, was a fucking idiot.  
Oh wait, you never went to drama school.  
Still a fucking idiot.  


Misha sighed to himself, pulling the trench coat tighter around his arms as a shiver ran through his body. Currently, the cast and crew of Supernatural were filming in a warehouse on location for the season finale. It was late in the evening, the sun had been down for a few hours now and the temperature was rapidly dropping.  
For once, Misha was grateful for his heavy suit and trench coat, unlike in the past. It kept him warmer than usual on this chilled Spring night. However, on top of everything, Misha could feel a cold of some sort coming on to him, so even the suit and trench coat were not completely enough to keep him toasty during filming.  


And filming was taking hours.  


They’d done over 200 takes for this entire episode and it still wasn’t finished yet. Apparently, Singer, Carver and the other producers wanted to give every, single shot possible for this season finale, and have all of their bases covered. Which meant days upon weeks upon weeks of nonstop filming, acting and rehearsing. Not to mention that this episode was their most exhausting – physically, mentally and emotionally – episode in at least three seasons. This episode was taking a toll on everyone, especially the actors, and Misha could see it in their eyes.  


Jared and Jensen were still smiling, but they were tight and strained, since their characters still had each other to lean on. Misha knew it was their love and dedication to this show, their fans and their characters that kept them smiling and going during these shoots.  


And for that, Misha admired the two.  


He admired that they could smile and use each other to lean on, despite emotionally exhausting and demanding scenes for an episode that was sure to tax everyone, fans included. He’d only wish he’d had their dedication and love to keep smile, but with each and every take it was becoming more and more taxing. Especially, with the current scenes they had been filming for at least half the day today. Misha didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the façade any further. Not with the end of this season. And potentially the end of his career.  


Misha shivered, smiling wearily at a PA who handed him a warm cup of coffee, nodding his thanks towards her.  


“We should be done within an hour Misha. Just hang on until then.” She smiled softyl, giving his arm a pat, knowing Misha wouldn’t answer her. But Misha was thankful for her understanding and for her kindness, in times like this. He had to speak up and let her understand how he felt.  


“I doubt it. It’ll be morning when we get out.” Misha replied instead. But to his undeniable luck, the PA laughed brightly and nodded, clearly hearing his thanks hidden in the tone of his voice. She nodded once more, before heading over to Jensen and Jared to offer the two cups of coffee also. Beside them, Singer and Carver spoke in chopped and clipped tones, trying to get their shots laid out and direct this episode in some sort of answer. Because Misha was sure, even they had to be tired.  
But this finale had to be perfect and Misha understood that, probably more than the writers or directors. This finale had to make up for all the shit this season went through.  


Misha understood the fans were in a mix of anger, disappointment and sadness, trying to decide if they wanted to continue watching Supernatural, or if it just wasn’t worth it anymore. He’d read about their undeniable (and highly reasonable) anger directed towards Charlie’s death – seriously, where had that idea come from, and why? – and the writing of this show. To be perfectly honest, Misha felt as if they had acted out this storyline before, and their show was just running in circles at the moment. He knew that if something didn’t change within this last episode, season eleven would most likely be Supernatural’s final season, if it didn’t get canceled that is.  


Of course Jensen and even Jared hadn’t fully understood the reasoning behind Charlie’s death, and they were both aware of the backlash within the fandom and audience because of it. The writer’s hadn’t explained why Charlie needed to die, in good terms. Had they even explained it at all?  


Misha more or less knew some of the reasoning as to why Charlie died, in order to set Dean’s anger into motion and bring out, not Demon Dean but the Mark of Cain Dean. Charlie’s death certainly stirred hidden fury and darkness within Jensen’s character that finally moved his character and the plot along. But he had no doubt that Charlie’s death was treated with less care and context than it should have, and he couldn’t help but feel Felicia had been robbed.  


But who was listening to him?  


At the moment, the outcome for his character didn’t look so bright either.  


Misha’s throat tightened at the thought of the final moments for this episode, and his heart jutted in his ribcage. An overwhelming panic and sadness settled at the bottom of his lungs, for the pain his character would endure, but at the moment he could breathe alright, and it wasn’t too bad.  


That didn’t mean Misha was happy though. He sighed shakily, turning as Singer finally announced to set the cameras in place for rolling and for the actors to take their marks. Gratefully, Misha dumped his cold and untouched coffee before taking a stand in front of Jensen, while Jared, Mark and Ruth all took their positions on the floor, each looking beaten, bruised and bloody.  


Misha’s eyes glanced at the glowing bowl in his hands, willing his fingers to cease in their trembling and luckily no one seemed to notice. They all probably thought it was acting for the scene. He closed his eyes briefly, listening to Jensen shifting and shaking his shoulders, knowing the other man was getting deep into character.  


It wasn’t when Singer finally yelled, “Action,” that Misha opened his eyes, or even when he heard the camera crew counting down. It wasn’t until Dean spoke did he open his eyes.  


“You think that is what will cure me?” Jensen – no this was Dean, spat darkly. His eyes were empty and cold, but his lips were twisted into a sick and sinister smile that made Misha’s stomach churn. Dean stepped closer to him, and Misha couldn’t help but take a hesitant step back. It’s for the scene. It’s for the scene. Quietly, he could hear the praise from Carver about his move and expression.  


“You think a pathetic soul mixed with some blood magic will ever cure me.” Dean cackled darkly, pausing and Misha hesitated to step back with trembling legs. He swallowed thickly, hearing Sam’s weak cry of, “Dean…”  


“When are you guys ever going to get it through your thick skulls, that nothing will ever cure me?” Dean snarled. “Nothing will stop this storm from coming, and nothing can cure the monster that I’ve become!” He stepped forward once more, but this time Misha did not take a step back, allowing Dean to enter his personal space. His wide blue eyes, locked onto Dean’s cold ones, feeling a chill run down his neck.  


“Dean, we have to try. We can’t stop if there’s even a chance to cure you!” Misha whispered softly, eyes darting from Crowley, to Rowena, and to Sam. Anywhere but Dean.  


Dean frowned, his breath ghosting over Misha’s cheek.  


“But what if I don’t want to be saved?”  


Misha felt his heart drop – felt Castiel’s heart break. “Dean, you don’t mean that…”  


“Sure I do.” Dean shrugged, pulling out of Misha’s face, allowing his face to twist into a sickening grin. He turned on his heel so that his back was towards Misha, and he could see the Blade in his hand, as blood dripped down his arm. “You always thought that I wanted to be saved, that I wanted to be cured, but the truth is, I like this new me. The old Dean Winchester was weak. Pathetic and nothing more than garbage. But this me, oh this me has no regrets, no fears and Castiel, it’s intoxicating.”  


Dean, please…”  


“The power that pulses through my veins, the burning to kill, it’s calling to me Castiel.” Dean continued as if this conversation was an average Tuesday coffee break conversation. “And who am I to ignore it.”  


Misha knew that this would be a scene where Dean’s eyes would suddenly flash to black and that all his humanity would be lost forever. His hands trembled immensely at what would be coming soon. He swallowed as his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Slowly, he took a step towards Dean.  


“It’s grace.”  


Dean’s body turned rigid and his arms tensed, but he did not face Misha. Sam moaned on the ground, blood trickling down his lips.  


“Cas, no…”  


“What.” Dean’s voice was as cold as ice.  


Misha’s breath hitched. “It’s not a soul Dean. It’s grace; an Angel’s pure grace.”  


Only then did Dean turn around. Too slowly, too dramatically. His eyes looked slightly more alive than before, but all that burned within them was undeniable fury. He snarled.  


“What.”  


“I said, it’s Angel grace, Dean.” Misha spoke louder, commanding the tremble in his voice to stop at once. Dean’s fingers gripped the First Blade even tighter. “Only can an Angel conquer a Demon. Only the grace of an Angel can repel that cloud of Darkness.” Misha recited with his head held high. Dean’s stepped closer as did Misha.  


“It’s my grace.”  


“Castiel!” Dean hissed furiously. “How many times are you going to sacrifice yourself for a lost cause?!” One of his hands reached out to grip the collar of Misha’s shirt, yanking him toward him. Misha bit his lip to keep from crying out and clutched the bowl closer to his stomach.  


Misha’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “Dean Winchester is not a lost cause.”  


Dean’s nose crinkled and his lips curled upwards into a vicious snarl. He yanked Misha off his feet, quickly raising the Blade into the air and aimed right at Misha.  


At his heart.  


“Dean, please don’t do this.” Misha croaked hoarsely, nearly wincing at the crack in his voice. A single tear ran down his face, soon to be followed by a flood of others. For a brief second, Misha could see Jensen through Dean, like the flip of a switch. He could see a flash of concern and confusion in his eyes, revealing Jensen and not Misha. But Misha had not said their secret code word for stopping a scene, which meant they had to continue.  


“Please, Dean, please.” Misha begged, as more tears raced down his cheeks. His lips quivered and quickly he clamped down on them, hard enough to draw blood.  


“Dean. Dean. Dean.”  


“Dean, please.”  


“Dean…”  


Misha’s eyes widened when the Blade was suddenly rushing down on him and he cried out on “impact.” The blood capsule in his mouth suddenly exploded by force, and the capsule within his shirt began to drip red. Misha’s breath was caught in his throat and he gurgled under the amount of blood in his mouth.  


Misha’s fingers trembled, and his hand that was gripping Dean’s shoulder shook with pain, as he gripped desperately at the t-shirt. His other hand, slowly uncurled from around the blood covered bowl, before it fell – almost in slow motion, ironically – to the floor, shattering on impact.  


But not before the air around them shook (thanks to a large fan, not from magic.).  


And a blinding light engulfed them (there was several large lights pointed at them, not because of burning grace.).  


Misha felt himself falling backwards until his body landed with a hard thud. His shirt and coated were now permanently stained dark red, and continuously pooling. The blood in his mouth dripped to the ground, and quietly he could hear Singer whispering.  


“Makeup crew, quickly finish Castiel’s make up now. Keep rolling camera’s two and four on Dean and Sam. Do not cut, this is our best scene yet. Move it!”  


Suddenly, Misha was swamped by two of the makeup girls, who immediately prodded around his eyes and cheeks, sticking contacts into his eyes, and painting blood around eyelids. Misha’s mind was a foggy haze and his chest was squeezing painfully.  


He couldn’t do this. Not again.  


It wasn’t even ten minutes later that the two girls were done and Misha was still lying on the floor. Behind him, Rowena was dragging herself upright with the help of a table and Crowley was sitting up.  


“Cas!”  


Misha choked on a sob and the blood in his mouth at the familiar voice, and he could feel two presents around him. Wearily, he saw a weakened and bloody Sam to his right, and a weary and sane Dean to his left. Frantically, Misha reached for Dean’s arm, ignoring Jensen’s worried looks.  


He snatched Dean’s right arm and pulle his forearm towards his with shaky hands. Immediately, Jensen caught on.  


“Hey, hey, it’s alright Cas. It’s okay. It’s gone buddy, see?” Dean croaked hoarsely, with a watery smile of his own. Dean turned his arm over, to reveal smooth, mark less skin. “You did it Cas, you saved me buddy.” Dean choked. Misha whined, as tears fell down his face once more, mixing with dirt and blood this time.  


“Wanted…t-to…not…save…”  


Dean’s face twisted painfully, and he leaned over to pull Misha in to his arms. Misha’s hand fell limply to his side and his head lolled until Dean supported it.  


“Cas, Cas, I’m so sorry. God dammit, I’m so sorry.” Dean cried, eyes never leaving Misha’s which he knew were slowly turning from blue to a sickening grey and red (with special effects, of course). “You never gave up on me, god you and Sammy never gave up on me. You saved me. You saved me.”  


Misha sobbed. “Dean. Dean.”  


“Cas, it’s alright. You’re going to be fine.” Sam whined pitifully, taking one of Misha’s limp hands into his own. Misha wearily turned bloody eyes towards Sam, who cried out at the sight. “What’s happening to him?! What did you do to him?!” He cried out, clutching Misha’s hand tighter. Misha gurgled around the blood in his mouth, hearing Rowena screeching in the background with Crowley, when Sam and Dean’s eyes turned to him.  


“Sam…Sam please…”  


Frantically, Sam’s attention snapped to his and Misha saw tears running down his face. For him? Sam’s shoulders shook and his breath came out in small puffs. “It’s okay…we saved him…we did it." Misha paused nearly swallowing his words. “You did it…thank you…I only wish. I only…wish we had more time…”  


“No, no Cas.” Dean.  


“Don’t say that Cas, please. You’ll be okay. We saved Dean and we’ll save you.” Sam begged desperately. Misha shook his head weakly, feeling the lump in his throat only grow. His chest tightened painfully and his lungs seized.  


“You were a good friend…thank you…for never giving up on me…I shall never…forget you…Sammy.”  


Sam’s eyes widened at the familiar nickname and his shoulders shook with a new set of sobs, leaving him unable to speak any further. Misha nearly smiled.  


Slowly Misha’s eyes turned to Dean, who had tracks of tears of his own racing down his face.  


“Dean,”  


“Please don’t die Cas. Please, I can’t lose you too.” Not, don’t make me lose you too. “I’m sorry Cas, I’m so sorry.” Dean begged and for a second Misha could not even comprehend how this was once a demon so vile and powerful that it sent shivers down the spines of other demons.  


“Don’t…cry Dean…you’ll be okay…I’ll watch over you…” Misha croaked painfully, as tears began to pour from his eyes. You liar. “I just wish…Dean…I…Dean, I just wish…oh Dean…”  


Misha knew that was the end of that particular scene, and the end of Castiel, Angel of the Lord. He knew Cas was meant to turn into the beast from Rowena’s spell, with bloody eyes and animal instincts, that Dean and Sam were meant to kill without hestitation.  


And yet, Misha couldn’t bring himself to do that; not again. So, Misha did the next best thing.  


Misha broke.  


Sobs wracked his body, and his limbs trembled violently from the force of pain and sadness overflowing from the actor, startling everyone. Jensen jerked out of Dean’s character at Misha’s first piercing wail, while Jared very nearly flinched out of Sam.  


He could barely hear Singer and Carver arguing behind him, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.  


“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” Misha sobbed, through raspy breaths. His breath hitched and his lungs squeezed painfully, as oxygen became less and less.  


“Mish? Mish, hey what’s wrong? Talk to me Mish!” Jensen asked worriedly, pulling Misha into a fully upright position and nearly in his lap. Misha felt a large hand (Jared) rubbing his back nervously. The arguing only got louder and louder and by now more and more people were yelling. Yelling at Misha.  


Misha’s sobs increased.  


“Stop it! Fuck, leave him alone. Do you think he can handle any more of your shit right now?!” Jensen barked furiously, to who Misha would never know.  


“Cut! Cut the freakin’ scene! We’re done tonight, no more.” Jared chimed in loudly, ignoring the yelling and protests. He rubbed Misha’s back even gentler while Jensen pulled Misha into his chest.  


“Hey, hey, Mish, you need to calm down okay? I need you to calm down, or you’re going to pass out, alright?” Jensen soothed softly. Misha shook his head, wailing even louder into Jensen’s shirt.  


“I can’t, I can’t Jensen. I can’t do this to him! I can’t.”  


“What can’t you do? It’s alright Misha, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Jensen pleaded hesitantly. After nearly seven years of working with Misha, he had never once seen him cry. Not even after all the frustrating and long days of teasing him without mercy. And to see him, fall apart at the scenes like this was more terrifying that anything Jensen had ever witnessed.  


“I can’t Jen! I can’t do another take. I can’t, I can’t.”  


“That’s fine, Misha.” Jared spoke up quickly, noticing how pale his friend was getting and the slight blue tinge to his lips. “We’re done, alright? We have enough shots that you’ll never have to do this take again.”  


“It’s not fair. It’s not fair, he deserves better! He deserves better.” Misha sobbed, in between breaths. His fingers dug painfully into Jensen’s shoulders, but Jensen ignored it feeling his heart break for his close friend. Misha had been under a lot of stress lately, and his character’s death wasn’t even planned or mentioned until only an episode or two ago.  


And on top of it all, they were still debating Misha’s contract for season eleven.  


“All this shit they throw him through; everything he’s done. It’s not fair. He deserves better!” Misha nearly shrieked. Jensen winced. “They throw him into the fire and make him run circles, season after season after season and then this! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t Jen. No, no, no.” Misha whined painfully, rocking against Jensen and feeling Jared kneel closer to them.  


Jared and Jensen shared looks of identical fear and pain, unsure of how to approach the situation. If it were the other way around, Misha would instantly know how to help them, but they’d never experience Misha like this.  


“They can’t even give him a fucking proper sacrifice before you kill him again!” Misha sobbed. Jensen swallowed painfully, holding Misha protectively against his chest as the directors and crew scrambled around him to get to Misha. Instinctively, Jensen snarled and pulled Misha out of reach. It was their fault this happened to Misha.  


It was their fault he broke.  


“Get the fuck away and go get help! Don’t you dare come anywhere near him!” Jensen snarled viciously, surprising everyone but Misha and Jensen. Only the young PA from earlier had bothered to listen and was sprinting for the paramedics on set.  


“Stay back.” Jared hissed darkly, nearly springing to his feet. “This means you too, Singer.” Bobby Singer’s eyes widened and hesitantly he moved away from the three main actors.  


“I can’t, I can’t. And they want me to do this scene another hundred fucking times, over and over like he doesn’t matter. Like he wasn’t anyone for seven fucking seasons! I can’t, please don’t. I can’t Jen.” Misha breathed in far too quickly and his lips became bluer and bluer. Jensen’s eyes widened and his heart raced.  


“I’ve done this scene at least a few hundred times!” Misha wailed. “And we’ve rehearsed it time after time again. I’ve read all the scripts – I should know what to expect! I should know this is where it goes! I shouldn’t – I can’t – I shouldn’t even!” His breathing was coming out more and more rapidly, barely appearing normal to Jensen and Jared.  


“Mish, Mish. Look at me. Look at me.” He jerked Misha’s chin up right when the other man looked downward. Misha’s contacts had fallen out from crying so much, so Jensen could see bright, blue eyes instead. “You need to take a deep breath and calm down for me. Please, Mish, can you do that for me? I promise you won’t have to do that scene anymore and we’ll fix this.” He pulled Misha against his chest and tucked his hair under his chin. Jared swallowed thickly.  


“We know he deserves better Misha.” He whispered hoarsely. “You both deserve better and we’re going to fix this. I promise you.”  


We promise you.


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will it end well for Misha and Castiel? Or is this the end?

Jensen had never before felt so helpless before in his entire life. Although he had never before been in a situation quite like this one before. Sure, he’d known people who had been upset, and could use some comforting, and he’d even known Jared during his time of need in the past. But Misha was different.

Never, before did Misha ever show any kind of discomfort, any kind of upsetting moments. No Misha was known as the one to comfort. The one to help others. The one to put everyone else’s needs before his own.

And Jensen couldn’t help but feel absolutely useless in a time of need.

Jensen swallowed thickly, pushing back his guilt and gloomy thoughts, knowing his friend needed him to be at his best, now more than ever. For if Jensen or even Jared faltered, it could easily set Misha off even further. His grip on Misha tightened.

In only a couple of hours, Misha had all but cried himself out to the point of soft sniffling and quiet moans. His body shook harshly, whether it was from the cold or from his sadness, Jensen did not know. All he could do was hold Misha tighter, in a silent attempt at comfort. Misha hadn’t said a word to anyone since his breakdown at the cut of the scene, resulting into a somber but silent form of help and comfort for his friend.

Meanwhile, Jared stood above Jensen and Misha trying to keep everyone else who wasn’t actually helping, away from the two. The only two he had allowed anywhere even near Jensen and Misha, were the paramedics once they had arrive. Although, Misha wasn’t quite as willing to let them near him, and merely buried himself deeper into Jensen, whimpering and moaning. The two paramedics were beyond worried and even frustrated in the fact that neither could get close enough to help the panicking man, however, one look into Jensen’s protective body language told them all they needed that Misha would be safe and he would be in good hands. The two left with words of reminding Jensen all he needed was rest and someone by his side, and he would get better. They left, reminding anyone who was close by, that all Misha needed was some rest and to be left alone.

But no one wanted to listen to them.

Jared sighed, twisting his expression of guilt to annoyance as Robert Singer spoke up again. Jensen had no doubt that Jared was feeling more than a little guilty about the constant and merciless teasing Jared had put on Misha for all the years the worked together, especially this season. Misha never complained (well that was a lie, he flat out exploited Jensen and Jared for their torturous pranks while on set at several conventions), and was actually a really good sport. Never did Jared suspect he could be hurting Misha even more, and that didn’t sit well in his heart.

Jensen knew Jared had an idea of what Misha was going through, having fought his own battles against these inner demons many years ago. It gave Jensen some relief that at least someone would be able to understand what Misha was going through. But the fact that any one was hurting, made Jensen’s insides twist.

“Look, Robert,” Jared sighed tiredly. By now, even Jensen had glanced up to see why Singer and a couple other producers were still standing around them. After two obvious hours of no filming. Heck even the camera crew had the decency to move away and give Misha privacy. Jensen’s grip tightened on his friend and his eyes narrowed. “We’re obviously not going to get anymore filming done tonight, and not anytime soon. You shot every scene we had, so there’s actually no reason for us to film anymore. Least of all Misha.” Jared explained with a firm but quiet tone. Most people would get the hint in his tone and back off, but Singer was always known to have been persistent.

Not always the best idea.

“Jared, I’m afraid you don’t understand.” Singer began, ignoring the warning growl from Jensen. Did he actually think he could be Dean Winchester? “That was our best shot ever! None of our other shots can even match up to that last one, no matter how we put it together, we just won’t get that same result.” Singer pleaded. His eyes narrowed when they momentarily glanced down at Misha, who sniffled at Robert’s harsh words, and buried deeper into Jensen.

“This is something he needs to get over for the sake of the show!”

“We are not filming another scene.” Jensen hissed quietly, voice already deepening to a familiar level. Singer even looked momentarily surprised at his response, however, Jared merely smirked. So he was coming out?

“Jensen, I understand he’s exhausted, but that is no excuse to not film at all –”

“I said. We are NOT filming another scene. Period.” Jensen snarled, protectively pulling Misha even closer, all the while never breaking eye contact with Singer. Jared nearly¬¬¬¬ chuckled at Singer’s expression, but decided against it in case the man decided to threaten his career from it.

“Jensen,”

“Not. Another. Scene.” Jensen growled. “You cannot honestly expect Mish, to dare film another scene after everything he’s been through. After everything, you and all the writers have put him through.” Jensen snarled. Even he didn’t quite understand his own words as they flew from his mouth, but deep down he knew that Singer and everyone needed to hear this.

Meanwhile, Singer’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he stood speechless in where he was.

“I’m taking Mish home with Jared. Finish the editing.” Jensen replied, turning his eyes away from Jensen to look down at Misha’s shivering form. Gently, he coaxed the man into a standing position – head still bowed, with arms shaking at his sides – and wrapped one arm around Misha’s shoulder. Eventually, he turned his steel gaze at Singer and clenched his jaw. “You better not let our fans down, OR our Mish.”

And with that, Jensen stormed out of the building, with a somber Misha and nervous Jared behind him. Singer was left standing, flabbergast until Carver and the others pulled him out of his stump and the team headed out to work.

This was far from over.

Unfortunately, during filming, Vicki and Misha’s family often stayed home in California while he stayed in their house in Vancouver, to avoid the costs of travels and to keep the children happy. Meaning, Misha had nothing but an empty house to go to. Similar, to Jared and Jensen, only Jared and Jensen had recently broken down due to character treatment in the past twenty-four hours. And honestly, neither felt entirely comfortable, leaving Misha alone quite yet. No one wanted to harm and smother Misha, after all he was a fully grown man, but they weren’t comfortable leaving the slightly unstable man alone, in a time where he needed people the most.

It was almost a silent agreement, said through shared looks and eyes, that Jared and Jensen decided together to stay with Misha for a few days at the very least. Just until their friend was on his feet again.

The car ride was eerily silent, the entire drive to Misha’s place, as even the driver didn’t know what to say. No one knew if Misha was grateful or annoyed by this, since his head was down the entire time, with hands clutching almost desperately at the fabrics of his trench coat. Jensen glanced out the window, to see rain beginning to pelt down outside, as a storm began to brew, and he nearly snorted. It was almost ironic.

Eventually, the three made it to Misha’s house and managed to half drag, half carry, Misha up the steps of his house – with Jared fishing for Misha’s house key, buried deep in his breast pocket – before ushering him into the house and out of the rain. Misha stood still as a stone, with arms still wrapped around his torso, while Jensen and Jared walked all over the house, turning on lights and shutting windows, and even scattering blankets around. All the while, Misha never moved or even spoke, and that alone sent an icy chill down Jensen and Jared’s spines.

Jensen nodded to Jared, who busied himself with making warm drinks, while Jensen cautiously stepped in front of Misha. The man didn’t so much as flinch.

“Hey there Mish-man, we need to get you out of those clothes and into something comfy and warm. Yeah?” Jensen said softly, careful to keep his voice soft and even, as to not startle his friend. Misha’s grip tightened on his trench coat, but eventually he looked up and Jensen’s heart nearly shattered.

For all he could see, was nothing but the remains of broken misery, pooling in those one vibrant and aspiring blue eyes. He felt a lump tightened in his throat, but forced himself to swallow it down. Now was not the time to get emotional.

Not when Misha needed him.

“Hey, Misha,” Jensen croaked, before coughing. Tears pooled in the edges of Misha’s eyes, but not of them fell as they had once before. “Are you going to be okay?”

A strangled sob, was the only noise to escape Misha’s lips, before he slammed a hand against his mouth with cheeks blazing in embarrassment. His eyes curved into crescent moons, and his eye brows rose in utter misery, as his shoulders shook. Immediately, Jensen pulled Misha in to his arms.

“Right, that was a stupid question. Jesus, Jensen, you’d think you’d known that by now.” Jensen muttered bitterly, burying his nose into Misha’s dark and fluffy hair. He was half surprised, and half relieved to hear a choked laugh through Misha’s sobs. Right, humor would work.

“You know, you and me could Tee-pee the Supernatural studio. We could even send glitter envelopes to all of the writers, so when they open it glitters spills everywhere. Do you know how easily glitter will stick to you and stay on you?” Jensen continued, ignoring Misha’s sobs as they lessened, and his laughter slowly became stronger and stronger. Jensen pretended not to make a big deal at the fact, that Misha’s body had finally stopped shaking, and his arms had weakly wrapped around Jensen’s torso. He even ignored the death-like grip Misha had on him.

He needs this.

He needs all of this.

“Maybe we could make a bonfire out of season 11’s scripts. I could make a pretty mean S’more. Just ask Danneel.”Jensen said softly, as Misha’s sobs finally ceased and his breathing began to even out. Still he didn’t let the other man go, until Misha initially pulled away. His eyes still held the same broken sadness as before, but at least there was the beginnings of a smile on his face. Jensen knew this wouldn’t all be magically fixed in one hug, and try as he might, he knew that if Misha went back to smiling and his old self now that something was very, seriously wrong.

And Jensen couldn’t bear that.

Hesitantly, Misha’s eyes flickered downward and his smile became a frown. But this time, no more tears spilled and the shaking did not began again, though Jensen held his breath.

“What’s going to happen to him?”

Jensen was almost thrown in a loop at the question. Almost. Though, he wasn’t Dean Winchester for his charming good looks, and ability to cry a single tear for a take. “Castiel?”

“What’s going to happen to him now?” Misha’s blue eyes looked up at Jensen once more, and he could almost see the desperation and hope within them. Jensen swallowed thickly.

“Honestly?” Jensen replied hoarsely. Hesitating momentarily, Misha bit his lip and nodded. With a sigh, Jensen’s shoulders slumped as he clenched his hands into fists. “I don’t know Mish. I fear for the worst, but…” His voice quieted when Misha’s face crumpled and his gaze slowly averted to the wood floor. Suddenly, Jensen’s eyes blazed and he squared his shoulders. “But I swear to you Misha, we will fix this! We will make sure that Cas gets what he deserves and only what he deserves, even if it gets me fired. We. Will. Fix. This.”

Misha jerked up in shock, eyes wide and mouth gaping when he heard Jensen’s words. One look into the determination and sincerity that was morphed within Jensen’s eyes were all the only sense of comfort that Misha could ever need or want. And suddenly, his heart didn’t feel so heavy.

“Jen..I…” Misha’s throat almost closed, too thick from emotion as his heart pounded in his chest. He knew Jensen didn’t need any words of reassurance and he had no doubt Jensen could sense his gratitude and understood what he was trying to say, but Misha had to let Jensen know just how grateful he was.

Just how happy he was.

“…Thank you.” It was all Misha could manage, but those two words said anything and everything that Jensen needed to hear, judging by the warm smile on his face. There was even a hint of a smile on Misha’s own lips, as he turned to head upstairs for a warm bath.

And Jensen believed, he didn’t have to worry quite as much anymore.

Jared glanced up from his steaming mug of hot chocolate, when he heard the shower upstairs turning on full blast. Gently he pushed another warm mug to Jensen, as the other man sat down wearily. The day’s events were finally catching up to him, and his body was growing weary, but he could barely imagine how exhausted Misha must be feeling right now.

“Jared, what are we going to do man?” Jensen sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face. Jared sympathized with his friend, who felt more like a brother and felt his own shoulders slump. “We can’t do this to Misha. After, seven years these think they can get away with this kind of shit and abuse to these characters and actors – real human beings Jared! Real humans – and that no one is going to stop them. First Kevin, then Charlie, now Cas? Not to mention the god awful list of other characters I can’t even list off the top of my head. Who stops them?” Jensen vented, his frustration seeping into his bones and his shoulders hunched painfully.

“Kevin and Charlie were heartbreaking but Cas. Jen, this is going to destroy everyone.” Jared piped in quietly. Jensen snorted bitterly, swirling his hot chocolate. “The show will never make it past season eleven, and I really don’t think Misha would be up to coming back as a ghost.” Jared murmured.

“Do you remember how miserable everyone was in season seven? The fans? Actors, hell even you and I?” Jared asked quietly, peeking Jensen’s attention. The shorted male nodded without hesitation, remembering all the long and dull moments on set; how it always felt like there was something missing. “And how someone was missing? It’s going to be that, but a hundred times worse without Misha, or Cas on the show anymore.”

“None of this even makes sense Jared. They lead him up to these great, defining moments, only to end him as a character that looks useless. Like he doesn’t even matter after seven goddamn, hard years.” Jensen growled. “He worked his ass off, harder than anyone, to get Castiel down and earn his name as a leading actor. I’ve said it once before and I’ll say it again, you can run an entire show off of two characters.”

Jared nodded. “I don’t think three main characters is too much. Four if you count Crowley.” Jared nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. The two sat in silence, only drinking their hot beverages, and lost within their own thoughts.

Jensen slumped forward. “We can’t let them get away with this Jared. We can’t do this to Mish. It’s not even about that Castiel is dying. It’s how he’s dying, why he’s dying and his characterization. If any of that happened to Sam or Dean, you know Misha would be grilling them.” Jensen sighed quietly. Jared nodded silently. Of course Misha would. “We can’t do this to him.”

“Who says we are?”

Jensen frowned and looked up blinking. Jared’s face was a calm and collected look as he attempted to cool down his drink. “Who says we have to let this happen? We are after all, the main stars and leading actors of the show. You even have some director’s gamble in your hands. I don’t think they’d be too happy to learn three of their main characters were leaving.”

For a minute, Jensen frowned in annoyance, clearly not understanding where Jared was coming from, before his eyes lit up. And a dark, wide smile overcame his face as sudden realization dawned on him.

They would not be going down without a fight.

X.X.X.X

“So, have we even made it through one question yet?” Jared laughed into the microphone, from his seat on the stage. Jensen doubled over with laughter, while Misha’s eyes crinkled, from where he stood making a crown out of paper.

Slowly he shook his head. “I thought you knew better, that this was simply sixty minutes of three huge idiots making fools out of themselves, while simultaneously digging their graves. There are no questions!” Misha exclaimed, as laughter exploded from the audience. Jensen’s shoulders shook while Jared rolled his eyes.

“Right. My bad guys. I’m sure you definitely waited in line and paid good money to watch idiots fail.” Jared muttered under his breath. Misha laughed.

“Now he gets it. See Jensen, we’ve taught him well.” Misha replied, as he made the final touches to his crown.

“Who better, than us?” Jensen mocked annoyance and jealously. Misha’s eyes softened as he looked at his two friends. His saviors really. The only two who had stood by his side when he was hurting worse than he had ever hurt before. The only two who refused to leave him alone and fought for him, and for Cas.

\---

“You’re going to what?!”

“You heard us right.”

“You can’t just quit the show! You’ve signed on to season 11, you’re both the stars of the show!”

“Actually, Jensen and I hadn’t signed on yet. We kind of figured that something like this was bound to happen, and we waited, hoping you wouldn’t do this. But unfortunately, you’ve proven us right once again.”

\---

Misha couldn’t have asked for better friends, brothers and family than those two. For they had filled the lonely gaps in his heart and mended the broken pieces of his soul. Without, their support, Misha didn’t know if he would be on this stage today.

“Although, seriously, after forty-five minutes, it might be a good idea to take questions. My lord.” Misha nodded, in a mock bow, as he placed the paper crowns onto Jared and Jensen’s heads. Instantly, Jensen and Jared straightened. Jensen puffed out his chest, flexing his arms while Jared flipped his hair over his shoulder. And Misha beamed.

“I suppose our loyal subject is right, King Jared.”

\---

“Jared’s right. Either you fix this mess that you’ve created, or we walk out of this studio for good. I’ve got some other roles I’ve been meaning to try.”

“How can you do this to us? To the fans?!”

“You haven’t been thinking of the fans for months! If you were you never, ever would have ended Cas in the way that you did. Never!”

“It was vital to the plot –”

“Vital as a dramatic way to increase views! Not, to add to the story plot, which Cas doesn’t have by the way. Great writing there, seriously.”

“Jensen,”

“No, you listen to me and you listen good. Misha had put up with your shit for far too long. He’s way too nice and to tell you how much you have screwed not only him, but Castiel over, season after season after season. But it ends now. And I swear on my life, that I will walk out that door and I won’t be coming back no matter what you call me for.”

“Jen said it best. You should probably be taking notes.

“So, what’s it going to be boys?”

\---

“Hi, yes, what is your question?” Jensen smiled brightly, as a nervous but beaming young woman approached the microphone first. Jared and Misha turned to her, both smiling and nodding to encourage her.

“I-I was curious t-to know, as a question for M-Misha,” Misha’s heart nearly skipped a beat while Jensen mentally clapped for his friend. “What’s Castiel’s storyline for season 11, after the season finale?”

A skip of a beat and a moment of silence.

And then Misha smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so a couple of you wanted the aftermath and as promised, I wrote it! I hope it goes well what I have written and you all enjoy it! I want to thank LugiaDepression for her kind words of encouragement and her ideas that I've woven into this part!! I hope you like it dear.


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